


In his Eyes, my Sins Writ Large

by L_The_other_consulting_detective



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood, M/M, MT Prompto, Manipulation, Rape, Stockholm Syndrome, Violence, anal rape, for PrettyPrompto, no happy endings here, painslut prompto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-10-20 22:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10671768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_The_other_consulting_detective/pseuds/L_The_other_consulting_detective
Summary: Prompto wanted to help Noctis, he wanted to make a difference. Now, with Ardyn's hands on him, he just wants a way out. Minds are fragile things and boys born for pain are prone to damage.Ardyn sees how far he can twist Prompto, how much he can make him crave the hurting and how long it takes before his toy bores him. Prompto thinks he knows the perfect gift for his master, a Prince with pretty eyes who won't see him coming. After all, if Prompto's learned to love pain he can teach someone else and Noctis has always been a fast learner.Longer than I expected, written for PrettyPrompto on tumblr. Expect chapters to get pretty graphic.





	1. Swallow your Pride

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: This is not an implied fic. I consider this chapter fairly gentle as far as descriptions go, but it's still not implied. If you aren't comfortable reading rape/torture or if you are triggered by this content, please, do the best thing for yourself and leave. It's worth noting that this is a stand alone and doesn't share any of my other FFXV universes.
> 
> If you want fluff, I've got a metric ton of fluff over on tumblr! @Promptistrashqueen.tumblr.com

Trains were oddly soothing, Prompto thought, as he sat leaning against Noctis’ side. The Prince was understandably not appreciative of that fact. Prompto looked into his boyfriend’s face, gauging his likelihood to reciprocate any form of conversation.

 

The shuttered darkness of Noctis’ eyes told him enough. Luna had been a dear friend, a sister, and maybe Noctis had been at least a little bit in love with her. Prompto would never fault him for it, not when he knew how large his Prince’s heart was.

 

He was ignoring the gritty feeling under his eyelids and the painful mass growing under his ribs. He didn’t know if he had a right to mourn a woman he’d never met, but his body didn’t care.

 

She’d given him the gift of Noctis’ heart and she’d been a constant presence in their lives for so long he couldn’t really focus on he thought that he would never get to thank her. Eventually he simply decided to let the world fall away, his hand sliding into Noctis’ as he drifted to sleep.

  
  


The first sign something is wrong is the feeling of a hard, cold pressure tight around his wrists. The second is the low chuckle and cool fingertip that drags over his cheek. His blue eyes snap open and he swallows hard. Ardyn’s face swims before him as the world comes into focus. Things are a bit blurry around the edges, his contacts are gone, but he recognizes the stomach-turning lines of Niflheim architecture.  Grey walls and rivets, metal and wire where others would use wood and cloth. Ardyn’s finger continue its trail down the side of his neck and he recollects, hazy from his dream, the Noctis shoved him off the top of that train.

 

Not that he thinks Noctis meat to, he realizes it was a trick, but it doesn’t make the words his lover had thrown at him hurt any less. Now he can feel, “It’s all your fault!” chasing itself around his head, a litany of angry Noctis overlaying Ardyn’s oily voice.

 

The burgundy haired man is still touching him and Prompto feels like he is burning. Ardyn’s finger traces his collar bone, spreading into the full press of his palm to the flesh there. His fingers curl over the muscles of Prompto’s shoulders and he shudders in disgust. Ardyn laughs, 

 

“I thought you liked being touched? You seem to enjoy dear Noctis’ hands on you here,” his hand slides over Prompto’s shoulder and the the blonde’s stomach drops as he realizes his shirt and vest are gone. 

 

“And here,” Ardyn runs his palms down the sides of Prompto’s body, leaving unpleasant trails of heat behind. His hands feel too much like Noctis’, the flame of lucian magic thrumming in them. They are colder though, tainted with years and years of Ardyn’s corruption.

 

Ardyn leans in close to him and breathes in his ear, “And here” his cool fingers dipping into the waist of Prompto’s boxers. His breath gets a little heavier as he runs a finger nail over the inside of Prompto’s thigh and it’s so jarringly disgusting the Prompto flinches away from him. The pull of his limbs at the jerky movement only serves to ramp up his fear and he wonders if Ardyn can smell it on him, smell it in his sweat.

 

He thinks, probably, as the man withdraws his hand and flicks his tongue over the shell of Prompto’s ear. Prompto’s gaze is full of hatred, his blue eyes flickering a touch red and he glares at Ardyn, at the source of all the  _ shit  _ that life has been lately. Ardyn just laughs again and tugs his chin up.

 

Prompto is not prepared for the gentle brush of Ardyn’s thumb over his lip and he takes a breath on instinct, the movement is familiar as he feels the hand in his hair forcibly tilt his head. Noctis gets a little rough from time to time, but this isn’t him. This is Ardyn and Prompto hates the moment of connection he keeps finding. Maybe, he tells himself as Ardyn tilts his own head down, it’s how he’s going to cope with this.

 

His eyes squeeze shut as Ardyn kisses him with first slow movements that grow harsh and aggressive as Prompto doesn’t respond. He changes his hold to grip Prompto’s jaw hard, fingers bruising the bone. Prompto gives him when he can feel the hand flex, it’ll do no good to gain a broken jaw from this. Ardyn’s demanding as he pushes his tongue into Prompto’s mouth, the too sugary taste of taffy is invasive and Prompto does his best not to gag. 

 

There’s no respite from the movements though, not even as Ardyn bites his lip hard enough he bleeds, he pulls Prompto’s tongue forward with his teeth, nipping hard. When Prompto remains open but still he finally steps back. Prompto gasps in clean air and tries to spit out Ardyn’s taste.

 

It’s a mistake, he realizes, as Ardyn grabs his left hand where it’s held over his head. Prompto grits his teeth as the man grasps his ring finger, a simple band from Noctis resting there.  The resounding crack covers the sound of Prompto choking a little.

 

“Ah, I’m sorry, I simply wanted to look at your ring. How anyone decides to keep someone who kisses like you around, I’ll never understand.”

 

Prompto swallows his whimper and blinks the moisture out of his eyes, after all if he cries now Ardyn will simply work harder to make him scream. He flinches as the man jerks his head up again, one hand already wrapping around his throat as the spread of cool fingers, “Try again.”

 

Ardyn dips his head and Prompto, head ringing, can do little to stop the man from kissing him again. Pressure on his throat from the hand there has him, loathing himself, returning the kiss with the slightest movements he can. Ardyn is having none of his attempt to stay disengaged though and his jaw is wrenched open, allowing Ardyn to slip his tongue into the blonde’s mouth once more.

 

The tightening of the hand around his windpipe forces him to respond, until he is kissing Ardyn properly and his stomach tightens unpleasantly. It feels like a betrayal, even if he is being forced.

Ardyn pulls away and grins at him, patting his cheek and releasing him fully. The man walks away from him, pausing to flip a switch on the wall.

 

“Until next time, sugar.”

 

Prompto’s voice is rough but determined, “There won’t be a next time, not before Noct finds me.”

 

Ardyn turns his head so Prompto can see him in profile and there’s a sardonic tilt to his lips.

 

“Such faith in your friends...misguided though it is.” Ardyn turns to face him again, studying him as though he is an insect, his arms open and hands spread as if to ask a question, his expression shifting to one of feigned concern.

 

“You really ought to let your delusions go. It’s unhealthy to cling to falsehoods. Noctis kept you around because you were a willing body, why else would he want someone who was so much weaker, so much less? You fell for the ruse and I can’t fault you for it, he is a convincing and handsome young man. Did you think that the other two had come to like you? They pity you, but little else.”

 

Prompto can’t find the words to argue, not when the things Ardyn says are so close to what he has always feared to be true.

 

“After all, who was it that Noctis blamed for his trouble? Who was it that was pushed off a train and left for dead? Was it Ignis? Or Gladio?”

 

Ardyn tilts his head so that he is looking into Prompto’s face and the blonde realizes he expects an answer. He licks his lips, his voice feels like it has curled up and died along with the warmth of his hope, even as he fights the poisonous words.

 

“No.”

 

“No,” Ardyn echoes, “so why would they ever come for you? They have a crystal to find, and little time for a broken doll.”

 

Then the man is gone and Prompto is left to wrestle with the doubt he leaves behind. He gets as far as telling himself that Ardyn is a snake and a liar (a fact which does little to ease the feeling that he is still right) when his discomfort turns into searing pain.

 

It feels as though liquid fire is being poured into his veins and ice is being dragged over his naked skin. It’s pain and it’s warmth and burning cold. He shivers and twists against his bonds, thrashing. Sweat covers him within minutes and all room for thought is consumed by the resounding need to  _ get away  _ from the pain.

 

* * *

 

**48 hours later**

 

The door is a distant shape, blurred at the edges and it’s hard to look at for long, since it requires him to raise his head a fraction. He’s using it to count time, thirty-two head raises since he’s given up on doing much more than dangling from his restraints and trying to get enough air to clear his head.

 

The fire in his blood is a constant now, something he can think around for brief moments. It seems to ebb, like a tide. It fades for short moments and then comes back with fierceness that makes his muscles spasm. He’s sore, exhausted, and something twists in his chest. 

 

There’s something not quite right under his skin now, whatever it is that’s holding him over the fire is changing him to, he can feel it in the way he hasn’t felt the need for food and how his vision is better than it should be in the poorly lit space.

 

He’s glanced at the door a total of three hundred and twenty four times when it finally opens. 

 

It’s shoved roughly and in walks the person he’s been praying for. Noctis looks panicked, worry etched into his features as he hurries to lower Prompto, touching his face, his bruised arms. Prompto slumps against him, trying to keep his guard up but too relieved at the familiar warmth thrumming under Noct’s skin, the magic that he’s used to. He let’s himself be held as Noctis tells him the others are on their way. 

 

His head rolls back and he finds himself looking into concerned blue and grey eyes. He reaches, straining, to touch Noctis’ cheek. The Prince smiles at him a little, cradling his hand there and dipping his head to press their foreheads together. Prompto’s eyes drift and he feels the press of Noctis’ lips, light against his own. Gods, what would he do without the other man?

 

“Noct-I’m sorry…” He breathes, tears gathering though he fights them. Noctis’ hand slides into his hair and he strokes gently, making Prompto relax a bit more, even though they’re still in danger. 

 

Prompto frowns, they should probably move soon but…Noctis is kissing him again and it’s slow and warm and he’s willing to put off safety for this, for a minute.

 

The kiss gets deeper and Prompto finds himself being held tighter, pulled a little firmer into Noctis and he pushes gently, meaning to break the connection, but Noctis isn’t letting go. He rolls his eyes, wincing as Noctis squeezes his sore frame a little too hard.

 

Noctis’ lips drag down his throat and Prompto wiggles, “Noct, not now.”

 

The Prince doesn’t even pause and Prompto shoves him hard as he can manage without straining himself overmuch. The only response he gets is Noctis grabbing at his hips, turning him to face away from him so that Prompto’s seating in his lap, back to chest. 

 

“ _ I’m sorry Noct.” _

 

The voice in his ear might be his lover’s but it’s twisted all wrong and there’s a mocking tone that freezes the blood in Prompto’s veins. Not Noctis..it’s not...not Noctis. The hands that are much too rough on his hips stand out, still Noct’s fingers, but not his touch.

 

Prompto yelps and tries to pull away, only for a hand to grasp his hair and yank, shoving him off balance. He hits the ground hard, chin scraping as Ardyn, still wearing Noctis’ face, forces him to tip forward. He grits his teeth and kicks out, only to feel the pressure of a boot over his leg.

 

“Ah-ah. Be still and you’re bones won’t be broken.”

 

Broken. Prompto needs his legs to get away. He knows not to test Ardyn and stops trying to kick, tugging instead, his hands scrambling at the floor. Ardyn grabs his forearms roughly, bruising him and forcing him to render himself helpless as his hands are pulled behind him and bound. 

 

He’s panting and there’s blood on his chin, eyes glazing with the knowledge that he doesn’t have a plan, a way out of this. He doesn’t give up, but it’s much harder to land solid hits when Ardyn is behind him. Noctis’ features appear in his periphery, twisted with Ardyn’s smirk. 

 

What little clothing he has left is torn off, causing him to fall to his side. It let’s him see far too much of Noctis’ body, naked as well and he closes his eyes, breathing sharply through his nose and he’s manhandled back to his knees and shoved forward once more. 

 

He’s bared to the air and he wants more than anything to curl in on himself and cease existing, especially as a familiar and yet very unwelcome finger probes his entrance. 

 

He clenches his teeth, expecting something painful, but it’s slow at first. Fingers that are a little too dry spreading him open and he chants to himself,  _ notNoctisnotNoctisnotnotNoctNoctnotnoctnotnot.  _

 

The pain returns full force as a stinging slap, the flat open palm of Noctis’ hand against his ass and he chokes a little. He hates himself a little when another blow lands and he moans. He’s horrified at the fact that he’s hard and trying to will it away desperately when Ardyn stops. Noctis’ fingers disappear and a very unfamiliar cock presses against him.

 

Ardyn’s voice is his own and Prompto can just see the man’s hair as he’s forced to tip his head back too far, Ardyn’s thumb rubbing over his gums while his other hand stays pressed flat against Prompto’s lower back, holding him at a painful angle.

“I’m going to send you back to him, but I doubt he’ll have you once you’re ruined.”

 

Prompto wants to rail against the words, wants to believe otherwise because he  _ knows  _ Noctis, but the pressure and flaring pain of being entered roughly, without nearly enough preparation, isn’t enough to make his own cock flaccid. Ardyn’s thicker than he’s used to and it burns in places Noctis doesn’t reach. He gasps, both in disgust and because of the force as Ardyn thrusts roughly into him. 

 

He has no way to brace himself and he can feel the blood on his thighs, the skin of his shoulder tears when he tries to lean against it on the ground. His head falls forward as he uses his core to force himself parallel to the ground, unable to do more. Ardyn, noticing his trouble, releases his hold on Prompto’s hips, forcing him to spread his legs so he doesn’t fall again. 

 

The movement pulls and Ardyn’s cock brushes his prostate. Prompto feels sick at the way his own cock twitches and his hips jerk, but it gives him a solution. If he fucks himself onto Ardyn he won’t fall, the movement will counterbalance him and he won’t be in danger of smashing his face on the ground. 

 

It’s not that he cares, at this point, but he knows basic anatomy, he could suffocate, bones could move wrong and kill him, and then he’d really be out of luck. He tells himself this as he starts to move against Ardyn, hating himself for doing it. Hating himself more because he knows, deep in his heart, he’s doing it because it feels good to hurt, in ways he didn’t expect.

 

Ardyn grabs his hair again, pulling him up so their bodies press together again and bites down on Prompto’s neck, drawing blood and making Prompto moan involuntarily. 

 

“Yes..look at you. Why would Noct ever want such a needy little whore? You talk like one of them, but look at you, riding me already…” Ardyn reached for a nipple, tugging roughly and pinching hard, making Prompto gasp, “you’re just a cockslut. I’m almost disappointed.”

 

Prompto bites his cheek until it bleeds, hoping it helps but the taste of blood only makes his head spin and the tightness in his chest winds a little tighter.

 

Ardyn let’s him go, pulling out and rolling him to he’s laying on his own bound hands looking up at the man. There’s almost no pause before Ardyn slides back inside of him, holding a wickedly sharp blade in his hand. 

 

Prompto screams when it meets the soft flesh inside of his leg, digging in and adding more of his blood to the slickness between his legs. Ardyn runs his thumb through it, thrusting steadily as he does and licks the blood of his digit before shoving it between Prompto’s lips. He arches into Ardyn at the taste and receives a slap for it that makes his vision blur. He blinks but it doesn’t get better and he can just make out Ardyn holding something shining, but not the knife. There’s a pinch at his neck but it’s a vague sensation as Ardyn roughly grabs at his cock. Prompto’s body shudders as the other man slams into him, the rough floor under him scraping skin from his shoulders. 

 

“You’re not so empty anymore, are you?”

 

Prompto comes hard, throat scraping raw as he screams, vision flickering and an odd burning growing under his skin. He can feel the rush of liquid inside of him that signals Ardyn’s release and that final mark, the way Ardyn scoops some of the extra up and starts rubbing it into Prompto’s skin, snaps something important.

 

He goes limp, opens red eyes and says in a low voice.

  
“No one’s coming for me, are they?”


	2. Messengers of the Void

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the briefness of this. It felt right to have this as a transition. Thanks for reading <3

Prompto licks his lips, feeling the way they sting as he wets them. They're swollen and dry after the day spent with Ardyn half down his throat but he doesn't mind so much now. When he's on his knees, barely able to breath and there's hands yanking his hair to guide him he feels like maybe he still has some use in the world.

He's not sure how long it's been now, if it's only a few days or if it's weeks, maybe months, that he's been here. It doesn't matter though, if the other's were going to rescue him they'd be here be now. Instead it's just him and the chancellor and the pleasure-pain that he knows so well now.

The door opens again, Ardyn's familiar footsteps approaching. Prompto's not on the cross anymore, instead his hands and feet trail long chains to rings in the walls and floor with plenty of slack for Ardyn to do as he pleases.

A hand twists his chin and Prompto, in some half-hearted attempt to reclaim himself, tries to pull away. He knows by now, fighting only makes it more exciting and though he hates himself for it, he likes the retaliation it brings.

As he expects the fingers dig in, bruising strength on already abused flesh and Ardyn grins down at him, "I'll give you this 987, you don't give up."

Prompto feels the nasty curl of emotion in his chest at the number that's come to replace his name and he sneers defiantly, past the bruises and the bloody lips, "It's Prompto."

There's a sting and the ringing in his ears as his head snaps to the side from the slap and he groans a little as Ardyn grabs his hair and yanks him around. He shoves his naked body forward, exposing his sore opening to the air and flicking a nail against the puffy rim. Prompto whimpers and hates it, even as a dry finger probes him, making him squirm and his cock twitches in mild interest.

The finger pulls away and he frowns, there's no movement, just the sound of a zipper. He braces himself, no use in begging for prep, he knows this game. The stillness doesn't change though and he twists, uncertain, but there's no give in the hand at the back of his neck, forcing his face into the concrete.

 

"You're filthy, you know. A good bath does wonders, or so I've heard."

Prompto frowns, what is he talking about? Warm liquid splashes against his skin, running down his back and he smells it just before some of it drips onto his chin. Urine.

He gags and it's a mistake as several drops land in his mouth, even as Ardyn continues to relieve himself over Prompto's bare body. He chokes and snaps his eyes and mouth closed, writhing as he tries to get away.

It's disguisting and he can't, he can't, he can't...he just..can't.

 

Ardyn's not done though, of course not, he uses the fluid the wet his own fingers and shoves them into Prompto's body, fingering him roughly, slicking the way with urine and blood, until Prompto's traitorous body orgasms, making more of a mess of him. He doesn't make a sound, his blue eyes wide and vacant and his fighting spirit somewhere far away.

A thumb and forefinger catch his chin and roll his head at an uncomfortable angle so Ardyn can examine him. He hums low and sighs, "Looks like I've broken it."

There's little else to be said as he pushes his way inside the Prince's favorite and takes the empty pleasure of a limp body, dragging his nails down Prompto's back until he opens scabs, rubbing the various fluids into the open wounds. The daemon sickness in Prompto's blood is likely to burn away any infection and Ardyn finds himself growing obsessed with his broken toy.

 

987 wakes alone again, sore and odd smelling with his hair greasier than ever and caked with things he no longer finds it in himself to care about. He shifts and there's pain that lances through his core, from his hips up. He moans at the feeling, not in discomfort. His cock twitches and he shifts again, more pain and it's making him uncomfortably hard.

He palms himself, trying to reach back to finger himself but there's a pull in his arm and his hand below the wrist is swollen and useless. He tugs at the chain on it, growling in frustration until he hears Ardyn's voice.

"Ah, so you're not dead."

He steps closer and 987 doesn't cringe back, instead he pulls himself forward and rubs against Ardyn's legs, making an odd wordless sound. His eyes are violet and unfocused even as the chancellor leans down to look at him more closely.

"Interesting."

There's no sign of Prompto anywhere in the bleeding, needy body on the floor and even as Ardyn steps indelicately on his broken fingers 987 pants, eyes glazed as his cock drools from it.

"Oh very interesting."

987 doesn't understand, the other always touches him, hurts him and fucks him, so why isn't he doing anything now?

He clears his throat, scratchy voice coming, "Please...please."

Ardyn smiles down at him, "Oh pet, I'm afraid I've got an appointment to be keeping." He pats 987's head and turns to leave, "I'll give Noctis your best."

 

He's gone and 987 whimpers, roughly fisting himself, trying to find some relief even as pain builds on pleasure until he comes again, panting and mewling on the floor of the room. He doesn't remember much outside of this, but the name...Noctis...it brings flickers of something...someone with dark hair and blue eyes.

If he's who Ardyn wants, if him being _here_ will make Ardyn touch him again, Prompto thinks, as he remembers the Prince (and he is a Prince isn't he? Noctis) smiling at him, he can bring him.

He pulls hard, until his hand, mangled and throbbing, comes free and uses the limb fingers, stretching as far as he can now, for a bar he grasps with his good hand and beats the chainlinks until they bend and snap. Standing, staggering and with blood and come coating him, his arm and hand hanging wrong and more bruises than not, he takes a step.

It doesn't go well and his knees crack on the floor, so he crawls instead, forcing himself to move.

If it's Noctis Ardyn wants, it's Noctis he'll get.


End file.
